"What are you talking about?" said she.
"About Daisy's singing, ma'am."
"That's the very thing," said Mrs. Gary, "that I wanted to
speak about. Daisy, my dear, I hope you are going to sing it
properly to your mother the next time she bids you?"
Daisy was silent.
"I wanted to tell you, my dear," said Mrs. Gary, impressively,
"what a poor appearance your refusal made, the other evening.
You could not see it for yourself; but it made you seem
awkward, and foolish, and ill-bred. I am sure everybody would
have laughed, if it had not been for politeness towards your
mother; for the spectacle was ludicrous, thoroughly. You like
to make a graceful appearance, don't you?"
Daisy answered in a low voice, — "Yes, ma'am; when I can."
"Well, you can, my dear, for your behaviour is generally
graceful, and unexceptionable; only the other night it was
very rough and uncouth. I expected you to put your finger in
your mouth the next thing, and stand as if you had never seen
anybody. And Daisy Randolph! the heiress of Melbourne and
Cranford!"
The heiress of Melbourne and Cranford lifted to her aunt's
face a look strangely in contrast with the look bent on her;
so much worldly wisdom was in the one, so much want of it in
the other.
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